


Hear My Voice, I'm Calling You

by RefugeeofTumblr



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Family Issues, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Screenplay/Script Format, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-09 14:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RefugeeofTumblr/pseuds/RefugeeofTumblr
Summary: Mike and Eleven, both suffering from depression, decide to make a step forward together on the road to recovery. Gift!fic based on You Feel It Too by Maiasaura. Script format.





	Hear My Voice, I'm Calling You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maiasaura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiasaura/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You Feel It Too](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12634467) by [Maiasaura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiasaura/pseuds/Maiasaura). 



**  
INT. BYERS HOUSEHOLD - JANUARY, 1985**

Two lamps at either end of the couch illuminate the living  
room, cluttered but comfortable. The couch itself is soft  
and covered with a simple woven blanket in white and  
yellow.

MIKE WHEELER and ELEVEN, both clearly dressed with  
winter in mind, enter the room. They move to curl  
up together in comfortable silence next to one of the  
lamps, Mike pulling the blanket up to cover them both.  
Eleven’s smaller body almost disappears under it.

                                 MIKE:  
                     There.

                               ELEVEN:  
                          (eyes closing)  
                     Thank you.

Mike looks away, at their faces reflected by the TV screen  
across the room. Eleven doesn’t seem to notice his sudden  
melancholy for a moment.

                               ELEVEN:  
                     Mike? Why are you tense?

The answer is lost before it can leave his throat. Mike  
frowns and looks down at his hands instead.

                               ELEVEN:  
                          (more urgency)  
                     Mike?

                                MIKE:  
                     It’s nothing, El.

She sits forward again.

                               ELEVEN:  
                     It isn’t nothing. It’s hurting you, so  
                     it’s important.

                                MIKE:  
                     You’d think I’d be used to feeling  
                     like this by now. I guess not...

                               ELEVEN:  
                     What are you feeling like?

                                MIKE:  
                     Really, El, it’s nothing. Okay? I can...  
                     I can get over it. It’s late. You need  
                     to sleep.

With a deep frown, Eleven takes her boyfriend’s hand and  
leans against him more closely. 

                               ELEVEN:  
                     Don’t tell me what I need. Tell me  
                     how to help you.

                                MIKE:  
                     I told you, it’s-

                               ELEVEN:  
                     So this thing you won't talk about isn't  
                     why you got mad at Dustin earlier?

                                MIKE:  
                     I- I shouldn’t have done that.

                               ELEVEN:  
                     I know. So what’s wrong? I’m here. (gently)  
                     No more secrets.

                                MIKE:  
                    God... How do I even start? I’ve just  
                    been feeling empty, El. So empty. Like  
                    I can’t get out of bed in the morning.  
                    Like I don’t care anymore-

                    It’s stupid. It’s just stupid.

The tears on his cheeks are telling her a different story.

                               ELEVEN:  
                    Not stupid. Why do you feel like that?

He begins to laugh, quiet and bitter. The hysteria takes him  
away for a minute, but Eleven’s patience doesn’t waver.

                                MIKE:  
                    Why don’t I feel like this? My parents  
                    don’t have time for anyone anymore.  
                    They don’t even speak to each other  
                    more than they have to. It’s like they  
                    don’t know I exist!

                               ELEVEN:  
                    They've abandoned you.

                                MIKE:  
                         (bitter)  
                    Pretty much.

                               ELEVEN:  
                    You’re afraid that they don’t love you?

                                MIKE:  
                    They never have! Mom and Dad were  
                    just the prom king and queen and they  
                    settled down like they should and had  
                    three perfect kids in their nice, perfect  
                    house.

                    Look how that turned out. Even Holly  
                    can tell they don’t love each other. 

                               ELEVEN:  
                    That doesn’t mean they don’t love you  
                    and your sisters.

                                MIKE:  
                    Dad never even tried to really talk to  
                    me. And after everything the last two  
                    years, Mom gave up on me too.

                               ELEVEN:  
                    She doesn’t understand.

                                MIKE:  
                    She can’t understand. It would put  
                    her in danger.

He gets up to circle the room, pacing back and forth. Only  
his footsteps and the quiet ticking of a clock can be heard.

She joins him.

                                MIKE:  
                     I’m just tired of feeling broken, El. 

                               ELEVEN:  
                     When I couldn’t talk to you... I felt  
                     the same. I felt broken too.

                                MIKE:  
                          (suddenly still, terrified)  
                     You didn’t- you didn’t hurt yourself,  
                     did you?

                               ELEVEN:  
                     I did.

                                MIKE:  
                     El-

                               ELEVEN:  
                     You are too, aren’t you? Hurting yourself.

                                MIKE:  
                     I... Yeah.

His sweater sleeve has been covering the thin white hatch-  
marks of scars. Groups of them go all the way up from his  
inner wrist, and he lets Eleven’s fingers move over them with  
slow, gentle movements.

A beat.

                                MIKE:  
                          (quietly horrified)  
                     You did this to yourself too?

                               ELEVEN:  
                     Not that. I found Hopper’s alcohol and I  
                     drank as much as I could. It- I can’t keep  
                     myself from doing it again sometimes.

                                MIKE:  
                     No... Oh, El...  
  
                               ELEVEN:  
                     We’re hurting ourselves. Both of us.  
  
                                MIKE:  
                     What a mess.  
  
                               ELEVEN:  
                     I found books at the library.

Back to the couch, where they sit down again to better  
comfort each other.

                               ELEVEN:  
                    Books on depression, Mike. There’s  
                    help out there.  
   
                                MIKE:  
                    How are we supposed to tell them  
                    anything? I have all these memories,  
                    and even I feel like I’m going crazy  
                    sometimes. They’d lock us up like-

                         (he sees El flinch)

                    Not like that! Well, kind of like that,  
                    maybe. Which means we can’t tell them  
                    the truth about anything.  
   
                               ELEVEN:  
                    Hop and your parents can’t give us  
                    enough help right now either.

                                MIKE:  
                    You’re right. So what...

                               ELEVEN:  
                    Doctors aren’t the only people who can  
                    help. People have support groups. There’s  
                    one for- for people like me. Alcoholics.  
  
Mike has to consider it.  
  
                                MIKE:  
                    What am I? I’m not an alcoholic. Are  
                    there support groups for just depressed  
                    people?  
  
                               ELEVEN:  
                    There was a list of all kinds of groups  
                    in the book. I was afraid to check it  
                    out from the lady, but... do you think  
                    we can look at it together? There might be  
                    something close.  
  
                                MIKE:  
                         (looks down at his scars)  
                    I don’t even matter to myself anymore. How-  
                    how is talking to other people going to  
                    make that better?  
  
                               ELEVEN:  
                    I don’t know. I just know I can’t lose  
                    you. Not again.  
  
                                MIKE:  
                    Hey, El, that’s my line.  
  
                               ELEVEN:  
                    If you kept hurting yourself, can you  
                    promise I wouldn’t lose you? That you  
                    wouldn’t cut too deep one day and...  
                    and nobody would find you in time?  
  
Those words have turned Mike’s heart to ice. He’s too  
careful for that. Right?  
  
                               ELEVEN:  
                    Just like I can’t promise I wouldn’t drink  
                    too much one night. It could happen.  
                    Then I'd be gone.  
      
                                MIKE:  
                    Then let’s make each other a promise,  
                    and we have to never, ever break it. Okay?

                               ELEVEN:  
                    What’s the promise?

                                MIKE:  
                    We’ll look at the book when we go to  
                    the library. We’ll find support groups.

                    And when we feel like hurting ourselves  
                    we’ll call each other so nothing goes  
                    wrong. We’ll always know, and we’ll try  
                    to keep each other from doing it a lot.  
                    Does that sound okay?

                               ELEVEN:  
                    I think so.

                                MIKE:  
                    Then I promise. I promise to call.

                               ELEVEN:  
                    Me too.

Eleven begins to cry, and they hug each other tighter. The  
lamps are still lit, shining warm yellow light from either  
side.

                                MIKE:  
                         (quietly horrified)  
                    How many times did we almost lose each  
                    other?

                               ELEVEN:  
                    Once- even once is too many.

Two broken teens hold each other on the couch as the clock  
on the mantle’s hands hit 2:00 in the morning. New Year’s  
Eve, circled on the calendar, has come to a close. But the  
looks on Mike and Eleven’s faces as they fall asleep  
together says that there may be a very important New Year’s  
resolution on the ever-so-subtly lightening horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy. Depression is a really hard thing to live with sometimes. I don't enjoy admitting that I wrote this partly from referencing Maiasaura's work and partly from personal wish-fulfillment. I'd love to have someone IRL who I was close enough to vent to like Mike and El do! Maybe I'll get to that point with somebody, someday. That's not the point, though.
> 
> The most important thing is, if any of you guys deal with depression too, it's so important that we all keep fighting. One day we will get ourselves to a better place mentally and situationally.
> 
> I love you all. Things will get better, and you have hope and courage on your side.
> 
> \- Refugeeoftumblr (swordofalbion on tumblr for my writing blog)


End file.
